


Beautiful Mess

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-23
Updated: 2009-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://littlebuttercup.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://littlebuttercup.livejournal.com/"><b>littlebuttercup</b></a>'s request of the trio pre-big bed purchase. Kind of veered from what she originally requested, so if you want something different feel free to request what you want. ♥ In the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/makesmeswoon/tag/ot3!verse">OT3!verse</a> we have kind of talked about. Title from a <a href="http://www.metrolyrics.com/a-beautiful-mess-lyrics-jason-mraz.html">Jason Mraz </a>song. Which vaguely is one of my OT3 songs but I couldn't tell you why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Nope, don't own a thing. This is all in me and Jenna's brains. (Well, partially. ;))

When it started nothing was really thought out. Mike had been the decision maker, had asked and Brooks was just okay with it because he ached. It didn’t matter if he was with Mike and Boyd as long as Mike was in the equation. He thought maybe they would set up a schedule, a tentative night on night off type thing but Mike nixed that easily. He said that he wanted it all. He wanted them both.

And Brooks was okay with that, oddly enough, in theory. It was the practice that was the part that was driving him crazy. Because they had a queen sized bed and three not so tiny guys and that math just didn’t mean comfort on any level. Plus he was pretty sure that Boyd’s feet were made of ice and they had this habit of brushing over his in the middle of the night when he was finally getting comfortable.

It had gone with out saying that Mike got the middle, which was comforting to Brooks and Boyd alike. Brooks liked that he could smell the familiarity in Mike’s neck and that if he closed his eyes and put his body just right he could make himself think that it was just he and Mike in a freakishly tiny bed.

Only not really, because Boyd made these noises in his sleep, not quite snoring but just louder breathing than Mike did and it served as a consistent reminder to Brooks that there was someone else. Someone else who had apparently decided that because they skated on ice they might as well just turn their FEET to ice and seriously that was just not fair.

Mike didn’t seem to notice, as he was in the middle and alternated sides in his sleep and always had this silly grin on his face and the one time he brought it up to Boyd he got a blank stare. Apparently Boyd could sleep through a hurricane and wasn’t sure what he meant by cold feet as thought Mike was his own personal furnace.

The sex part was the least uncomfortable, weirdly enough, as they somehow developed a rhythm to that with in the first few weeks. The give and take of adding another person in to the mix was actually kind of nice. Gave Brooks time to appreciate the time and the people… person? … he was with. He liked the way that Boyd would almost read his mind with the pace that he wanted and he loved the look on Mike’s face when Boyd was doing so.

It was just the sleep.

He found himself waking up half way through the night with no room on either side of him, his face pressed into the side table. And it was slowly but surely driving him crazy. He would fall asleep during practice and strategy meetings. Fall asleep watching TV on the couch, only to be woken up by Mike with kisses along his next that led him to the bedroom that was technically Boyd’s but was rapidly turning into _theirs_ and the problem continued.

So it was weird the day that he came home to find a huge truck in the driveway closing up its doors and Boyd signing some papers. Boyd gave him a sheepish grin, blush showing through the stubble on his face. Brooks looked at the side of the van. A furniture store? He walked into the house and took stock. The same couch, the same TV. Boyd walked him towards their… his bedroom and showed the brand new **huge** bed and gave him a smile.

“California King,” he said, and referenced the pile of sheets on top of it. “Want to give me a hand?”

Brooks was in just enough shock to take the sheets (that were sinfully soft and a dark red) and help Boyd stretch them across the massive space. When they got to the sheets he paused a little dumbfounded, “You… bought a new bed?”

“You said you were uncomfortable in the other one,” Boyd gave a casual shrug. “This is the biggest on the market. Figured it was something we should have either way.”

It was as simple as that to Boyd, to just have this huge bed that could probably fit the entire team if they needed it to. (Not that that was an image Brooks wanted in his mind ever.)

The first night it worked, with Mike practically horizontal to be able to be close to the both of them and Brooks getting the face end for once. And maybe Boyd was right; Mike was his own personal furnace because the man was freakishly warm. It felt like it should be the perfect situation. Only it wasn’t, not quite at least.

The second night he moved in closer, found himself inching towards the center of the bed and pretended not to notice Boyd’s raised eyebrows. Or his icy cold feet.

The third night Brooks put a pair of extra thick socks on Boyd’s pillows. And that night, that night was perfect.  



End file.
